


Correspondence

by ElianB



Series: What feels right [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Parent-Child Relationship, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26773429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElianB/pseuds/ElianB
Summary: A set of important conversations as the family grows and shifts.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: What feels right [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1432408
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. Conversation 1 - Convergence

**Author's Note:**

> In one of my previous fics for this series, Dick resists the concept of thinking of/referring to Bruce as his father. That's a scene that was supposed to take place when he was 9 and the loss of his parents was still pretty fresh. In this fic I wanted to write a shift from that attitude, occurring as Dick got a bit older and had healed some and gotten to a place where his feelings on the matter were allowed to change. I don't think in this situation his feelings would ever have *had* to, but, personally, I'm a fan Bruce's kids thinking of him as a parent. In this fic, Dick has realized that the distinction he'd originally placed between "guardian" and "father" has become obsolete, essentially, and he's trying to decide what he wants to do about that.
> 
> The closet thing I've got to experience with anything like this situation is the fact that I've had 2 step-parents (my father's still married, my mother's divorced). I've never referred to either of my step-parents by anything other than their first names even though I've known them both since was was really little. And I've never thought of them as actual parents, per se, but I've never thought of them as *not*-parents either. I've had the benefit of the 'step-parent' label being a cozy container for my situation. And "guardian" could be that for Dick with Bruce, but... I like the idea of it working out differently for him, especially because Bruce is his sole guardian and such a big figure in his life.

Dick was staring at Bruce.

They were in the Batcave, having returned home for the night after stumbling into information that required more investigation, and while Dick had finished changing into pajamas, Bruce was still sat at the computer, only his cowl, gloves, and cape removed. He was engrossed in the research he was conducting and hadn’t actually  _ told _ DIck that he needed to head up to bed after getting showered and changed - a weak excuse for defying expected behavior, but Dick was once again on a mission to get his bedtime extended.

He had succeeded at getting it pushed back to 9pm when he was 10 and had been making a strong case for 12am now that he was 11 and going to be starting middle school kind of soon. And the weekends were the best time to go pushing boundaries since Bruce was less stubborn about his bedtime when Dick didn’t have school the next morning.

So, Dick had quietly padded over to a couch that was set close enough to Bruce that he’d have a decent view of the computer and had gotten comfortable, settling in on the end that wasn’t draped with Bruce’s cape.

And as time had ticked on, he’d started staring at Bruce.

He was trying to be subtle about it and Bruce wasn’t giving any indication that he  _ knew _ Dick was staring at him, but… Dick also knew that there was  _ no way  _ he was being subtle enough to have avoided detection.

Even though he had no actual evidence for it, it was obvious to him that Bruce was only failing to acknowledge him or ask him what was up to be polite - a courtesy that Dick was certain would be overcome by curiosity soon enough and faster still if he didn’t  _ stop staring _ .

The cave was mostly silent, save for the bats awake above them, Bruce’s typing at the keyboard, and the faint creaking of the couch as Dick shifted around. He crossed his arms, uncrossed his arms, leaned on the armrest, started bouncing his leg, sat up straight again and suppressed a yawn. All the while still staring at Bruce.

Usually he would have talked about something, anything, just to break the silence and keep from being bored, but… he’d been thinking lately… about something he sort of wanted to talk to Bruce about and tonight, in the near stillness of the cave, that conversation had lodged itself firmly in his throat, making it hard for him to speak.

When he’d first been brought into Bruce’s home, there’d been multiple occasions where he’d accidentally called Bruce his dad, slips of the tongue in the middle of the night when he’d woken from a nightmare and Bruce had rocked him back to sleep and Dick, calmed now, had just wanted to thank him. Or when spikes of nervousness would hit as Dick wandered the halls of the manor, exploring, only to realize that everything was  _ so silent _ \- from the carpet rolled out over the dark wood floors softening his steps to the still pictures of the yard that the windows looked out upon to the empty rooms he’d been tiptoeing into - and he simply couldn’t stand it anymore, a foreboding feeling that if he didn’t find Bruce he’d be alone forever, and if a stray “Dad?” slipped out while he was calling for Bruce, he was too stressed to care.

At some point, the nightmares had stopped and Dick had become, if not more accustomed to being alone, then more comfortable in the manor and the slip-ups had stopped.

Until recently.

A few weeks ago one of his school friends, Mia, had asked if he and another friend, Lisa, could come over sometime that week because her older sister’s birthday had been the Saturday before and she’d gotten a new video game she’d probably let them play. Lisa had said she’d ask her mom, and, without even thinking about it, Dick had echoed her, nodding along and saying, “Yeah, I’ll ask my dad.”

He hadn’t even realized what he’d done until he’d spotted Lisa’s surprised expression and even then it’d taken him a second to realize what she was reacting to. She’d, of course, been there two years ago on Halloween when Will, another of their friends, had made the mistake of trying to insist that Bruce was Dick’s father and she’d borne witness to Dick blowing up about it and insisting that a guardian and a father were different.

Dick’s stomach had dropped and he’d sunk down in his chair, strangely embarrassed, and muttered, much too late, “Um, I mean  _ Bruce _ ! I’ll ask Bruce…” Mia hadn’t seemed to think anything of it and Lisa had looked curious, but she hadn’t said anything.

Dick, however, had been thinking about it ever since. At first it’d been rationalizations about how it’d just been an accident and it obviously didn’t mean anything. But… it wasn’t long before he started to wonder if maybe it  _ did _ mean something. And if he was really all that opposed to it if it did.

It was an uncomfortable thought, squirming around in his stomach. That maybe Bruce _was_ his dad and if that thought didn’t make him upset like it used to, then maybe his prior insistence that Bruce _wasn’t_ and _couldn’t_ _be_ had never been true. And on top of that, if he _was_ Dick’s dad then… what did that mean for his _actual_ parents? ...Did it mean he hadn’t loved them enough?

He’d cried about it a few times, tucked into his bed, unable to sleep.

He really didn’t want to cry about it again.

Dick squinted at Bruce, like if he stared hard enough he’d magically have his answers or it’d suddenly be easier to get out what he wanted to say. Nothing happened and after a moment Dick shifted again, tucking his legs up underneath him with a sigh and looking away from Bruce for the first time since he’d started staring.

His gaze was caught by Bruce’s cape and he reached out for it, grasping the smooth, silky fabric and tugging it into his lap. It was a bit heavy, settling as a comfortable weight across his legs and he started toying with the end of it, twisting the triangular edges between his fingers and tying them together, leaving the whole thing a knotted mess before he finally stopped with a small, uncertain, “Bruce…”

The typing at the computer stopped and Dick could hear Bruce’s chair turn in his direction.

“Yes, chum?”

Dick pressed his lips together, nervousness leaving him unsteady. “Are you… If you could have had a - um - a new parent… would you have?”

There was a pause, then Bruce was getting up and walking over to him, kneeling in front of him. Dick stared resolutely at the knotted cape in his lap.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Bruce said, gently. “Can you explain?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, it’s just… You’re- Are you-” He sighed frustrated, and looked at Bruce. Bruce was watching him closely, but his expression was all concern and curiosity, not an ounce of irritation or impatience. “You’re sort of like a parent to me. Right? Like… You do the things parents are supposed to do: you try to make me go to bed on time and you try to go to those parent-teacher meetings and you tuck me in at night and you just… take care of me and all that. So…”

For a second, Bruce didn’t speak, but then he nodded and gave an understanding hum. “I do, do all of that, yes. And…” he reached out, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder and squeezing gently, a small smile appearing on his face, “I would like to think I  _ could _ be a parent to you, if you were okay with that.” His gaze got a bit distant, then, and he continued, “As for myself… Honestly, I’m not sure. Alfred was similar to a parent to me growing up, but it’s a bit… complicated.” 

Dick nodded, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach getting stronger, and twisted the cape in his lap.

Bruce must have noticed his confliction because he rushed on to add, “My situation with Alfred was quite a bit different than yours with me, though. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with thinking of someone new as a parent. Like you said, I… I do the things parents are supposed to do.”

Dick glanced up at him and- He  _ really _ hadn’t wanted to cry again, but his eyes were burning and he still felt uncomfortable, but his heart also felt so much lighter than it had in days.

“Oh, come here,” Bruce murmured, pulling Dick in, hugging him to his chest as best he could in their awkward position, and petting his hair. “Dick, I’d be honored if you thought of me as your parent. And even if you don’t or you  _ never  _ do, I love you so much and I’m so happy to be a part of your life.”

At that, Dick did start to cry. He dropped the cape to grasp onto Bruce tightly and with a bit of maneuvering Bruce managed to gather Dick up in his arms and seat himself on the couch so he could better hold him through the breakdown, rubbing soothing circles onto Dick’s back.

And when Dick had finally exhausted his tears, Bruce grabbed him some tissues from a side table and asked him if he wanted to stay where he was or be brought up to bed. Dick blew his nose and scrubbed at his eyes, completely worn out. He didn’t even have the energy to say anything and going to bed sounded nice, but he also wasn’t fond of the idea of being left alone in his room, so he put up a finger, a one, in request to stay down in the cave.

Bruce nodded. “Alright.” He petted Dick’s hair once more, then carefully shifted him onto the couch and got up.

The second Bruce’s spot was vacated, Dick laid down, cushioning his head with his arms and closing his eyes, still awake but probably not for long. He could hear Bruce moving around, felt Bruce’s cape get draped over himself. A few moments later, the typing at the computer started up again.

Everything was quiet, but not too quiet and for the first night in weeks, Dick’s thoughts were still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline-wise: This chapter takes place some months after the last chapter in "If anyone asks just say it was the sugar high." Dick's been Robin for a little over 2 years, having convinced Bruce to let him start going out when he was just barely 10. I mention in the notes for this series, but I go with Dick's November 11 birthday (which makes it a bit interesting for me to organize how old he is when because I don't have a late birthday myself, but... I think I've managed not to avoid getting anything tangled up yet).
> 
> Anyway. I'm leaving this fic open to additions, but like the series itself, I'd just be adding as I feel inspired.


	2. Correspondence 2 - Blueprint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *chanting*: Teen Titans, Teen Titans, Teen Titans!!! (No teen titans other than Robin appear in the making of this chapter)  
> This chapter is from Bruce's pov. And the alluded to Teen Titans in question are the '60s group not the '80s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about children growing up and how much that can genuinely hurt because I have a pair of nieces and I get it now.
> 
> This chapter takes place after "Flashes of light" (which is a direct sequel of "I really really like you"). I suppose all you really need to know is that my Dick Grayson is nonbinary (but hasn't come to that conclusion yet) and will grow up to present feminine. He's been exploring feminine presentation a bit since "Flashes of light." This chapter is probably a little less than a year after the events of that story.

Dick was going to be starting high school soon.

It was a realization that came to Bruce quite abruptly one afternoon. The two of them were sat in a reading room, going about their own business. The windows were cracked open, letting in crisp air and a cool breeze that ruffled the lace curtains, the room dancing with shadows where it wasn’t bathed in the afternoon sun.

Bruce had made himself comfortable on a loveseat, taking a much needed break from thinking and doing to simply enjoy a book. Dick was also indulging in some free time, camped out just about all the way across the room from Bruce in a vague effort to secure himself a bit of privacy without actually having to leave the room. He was sitting in the open doorway, having abandoned his spot at the coffee table where he’d been painting his nails in favor of answering the phone.

As soon as Dick had realized it was one of his friends on the line - Donna, Bruce had heard him say - he’d dragged the phone as far from Bruce as its cord would allow, stretching the tight spiral taunt and tugging the phone’s base all the way up to the edge of the table it was set on - a procession which Bruce had watched with a raised eyebrow, ready to save the base of the phone from toppling to the ground in a moment’s notice if need be. Thankfully his intervention hadn’t been necessary and Dick, though also eyeing the telephone base’s precarious placement a bit distrustfully, had gotten settled in the doorway without incident.

Bruce had shaken his head, smiling slightly, and noticing that Dick’s nail polish had been left, not only abandoned, but also open and likely forgotten, he’d gotten up to grab it and screw the top back on. While he was at it, he’d decided to walk over to the small table the telephone base was set on and move it closer to Dick, straining the wires that were plugged into the wall, but reducing the likelihood that an errant gesture from Dick would yank the whole thing to the ground.

And… that was it.

Nothing about the events really felt like they should have been a reminder to Bruce that his kid was getting older. But something about it… When he’d looked back over at Dick, shooting Bruce a thumbs up and a mouthed “Thanks,” all Bruce had thought was, ‘He’s getting so big,’ followed up by a slightly more discomforted, ‘...He’s going to be starting high school soon.’

They were coming up on spring, not that far away from the end of Dick’s last year of middle school, and because of his late birthday, Dick was already well into being 14. Well into growing into his own person - or… even  _ more _ of his own person, since he’d always been such a stubborn, independent thing. And the friends he’d made through Bruce’s Justice League associates - Donna, Wally, Garth - had only seemed to be speeding the process along.

In some ways it was a good thing.

No matter how supportive Bruce and Alfred had been over the past year or so, Dick had remained hesitant to explore his appearance in ways he’d clearly wanted to. Lately, though, he was wearing his small collection of earrings more regularly and painting his nails. On top of that, a couple months ago he’d asked Bruce to cancel his hair appointment and he had yet to request a new one so his hair was getting a bit long, a surprise of black curls springing forth from the waves that curved around his ears and were just barely beginning to fall into his face and creep down the back of his neck.

It was clear to Bruce that it was Dick’s new friends who had provided him with whatever reassurance he’d needed and in that way it was nice to see Dick finding himself.

In other ways, however, it was… a little complicated.

It was partially because he’d begun listening to Bruce less, which was troubling, but, to be fair, it wasn’t a  _ new  _ problem. It was also starting to make Bruce feel… old… which was an interesting sensation. And it had all been topped off with a nice dose of nostalgia for good measure. Honestly, it felt like just yesterday Dick had been round-faced with baby fat and hadn’t even been tall enough to reach Bruce’s waist. Like just yesterday he’d been in elementary school with perpetually sticky fingers and a penchant for climbing on things that he really shouldn’t. Like just yesterday he’d needed Bruce’s help just to reach the counter and would giggle so hard he’d scream if Bruce tickled him.

Dick was still so very young, now, certainly, but…

He wasn’t that little kid anymore.

And… Bruce felt silly being bothered by it, but… Dick never even asked Bruce to pick him up anymore. That honestly might have been the worst part about it all. Which was ridiculous. Absolutely  _ ridiculous _ . But… lord, Bruce couldn’t deny that he missed being able to pick up his kid just to  _ pick up his kid _ \- not because they were sparing or because Dick had gotten hurt while out as Robin.

If Bruce tried it now he could just  _ imagine _ the little rant he’d get about Dick not being a baby anymore. He could also imagine the very high likelihood of himself getting kneed in the face, however good-naturedly, in retaliation. It’d be funny if Bruce wasn’t so genuinely sad about it - a fact that, in and of itself, was also a little funny and Bruce would laugh if only it wasn’t  _ him _ that was feeling that way.

Instead of laughing, Bruce sighed, shaking his head and returning to his chair and his book. He ignored Dick’s conversation to the best of his ability, not wanting to eavesdrop, and soon enough found himself engrossed in his reading, attention blissfully lost to all but the words on the page. He didn’t look up again until he heard the creek of a floorboard announcing Dick’s approach.

Dick threw himself down onto the loveseat, body turned to face Bruce, an elbow propped up on the chair’s back.

“Bruce,” Dick said, simply, and very obviously leading into something more. He was staring at Bruce in that expectant way of his - the one that meant Dick was about to ask Bruce for something that he knew Bruce wasn’t going to particularly want to give him, but that Dick had already decided he was guaranteed to get his hands on anyway.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, closing his book and setting it on the coffee table in front of him. “What,” he replied, more a statement than a question.

Dick smiled at him, wide and bright.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, refusing to be moved, no matter how badly that expression made him want to ruffle Dick’s hair.

For a moment, they were at an impasse, then Dick blew out a breath of air and rolled his eyes, like it was  _ Bruce _ whose behavior was indicative of unavoidable future exasperation.

Bruce shook his head, the only outward indication of his incredulity, and waited.

“I have a proposition,” Dick said.

“A proposition.” Bruce echoed. If he hadn’t already not liked where this was going  _ that _ would have made it official.

“Donna, Wally, Garth, and I want to start our own team.”

Bruce blinked. “The four of you.”

“Yeah.”

“ _ Alone _ .”

Another eye roll from Dick. “ _ Yeah _ .” Muttering, he added, “If four people working on a team together really counts as ‘alone’.”

Bruce ignored his errant comment, plowing on. “Without adult supervision.”

Dick frowned, getting properly irritated now, “We’re all about to be in high school. We don’t  _ need _ adult supervision. You  _ know _ I can handle myself and all three of  _ them _ have superpowers so that’s even less reason to worry. Honestly, Bruce, all I’m asking is if you’d help out with a base. As for the team up itself? I’m just telling you about that. We’re going to try to make this work no matter what you think and whether or not you help. It’d just be  _ nice _ to have a place to meet up and hang out that isn’t someone’s living room.”

Bruce took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you thinking, then? How do you see this playing out?”

Dick gave him a  _ look _ , crossing his arms. “I mean, we’ll contact each other if we need each other. Donna and Wally can get around pretty fast and they could pick up Garth and me. We’d meet up at the base on weekends. Geez Bruce, you’re acting like you don’t understand how a team works.”

Bruce hummed, a hand to his mouth, considering. “You want permission to work on weekdays.”

“I won’t stay out past curfew,” Dick responded without missing a beat, likely having expected this part of the negotiation. “And if I fall behind in my homework I… I’ll stop.”

Bruce nodded slowly, then pressed on. “You want to go out of town, where I won’t know where you are or what’s happening to you.”

“I’ll check in and make sure you know where I’m going.”

Bruce hummed again, still unconvinced, though he couldn’t say that both answers hadn’t been reasonable.

Dick met his reservation with a steely determination, so at odds with how young he looked especially with his messy hair and half-painted nails. “Think about it. I’d really rather do this with your blessing. I’ll let my friends know what’s up by the end of the week.” He stood, then, and gathered his things, leaving the room and Bruce to his thoughts.

In the end, it really wasn’t much of a choice, and Bruce didn’t feel there was a point in prolonging the farce, just for his own peace of mind.

Afterall, barring a life-or-death threat, Bruce still hadn’t mastered the skill of telling his child, “No.” So, Bruce retired to his study, scheduled downtime officially over, usurped by a new project. He emerged for dinner and to tell Dick good night, but did not come out again until he had finished what he was working on, tired and bleary-eyed.

As he made his way to his room, he stopped at Dick’s door, taping a copy of the detailed draft of a blueprint for an addition to the Batcave onto it. It would be a roomy, private area for the kids to meet, with a door to separate them from Bruce, something set to open by code or handprint, and a separate exit/entrance than Bruce took from the cave proper in the Batmobile.

And in the morning when Bruce was awoken by his bedroom door slamming open and his child leaping onto him, a positively glowing smile on Dick’s face as he said, “Thank you!” and hugged Bruce, Bruce, his head still fuzzy from sleep, could imagine for the moment that the only thing he felt was fondness.

That there was no fear or loss creeping up around its edges.

Because Dick was going to be starting high school soon and would be branching out into the world without Bruce by his side, hovering over him and keeping him safe, even sooner.

Because Dick was getting older. So much older.

And all Bruce could do was hold him tight while he still could, because it wouldn't be long before Dick would be racing out of his bed to call his friends and tell them the news. His child, gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived. And Bruce with no choice but to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I have 2 more chapter ideas set in stone as things I Really Want To Do. I make no promises that they'll be up soon, but... Maybe..... Motivation is just fickle.


End file.
